


grant that we may feast (in fellowship)

by simplylegilimenss



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Baking, Cooking Competition, Draco Malfoy is Clueless About Muggle Things, H/D Food Fair 2018, Harry Potter Cooks, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Hogwarts Kitchens, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Light Angst, M/M, Minor Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Minor Pansy Parkinson/Blaise Zabini, Minor Seamus Finnigan/Dean Thomas, Muggle Food, Muggle Technology, Mutual Attraction, Referenced Past Abuse by Dursley Family, Referenced Past Suicidal Thoughts, Smitten Draco Malfoy, Smut, Switching Dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-07
Updated: 2018-10-07
Packaged: 2019-07-03 23:03:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15828741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/simplylegilimenss/pseuds/simplylegilimenss
Summary: When the house elves areon strikegiven Sundays off, a cooking competition ensues in the Hogwarts kitchens every Sunday. Passionate rivalries turn to passionate friendships. Or could it be something more?Or:Draco can’t cook for shiteven though he says he can, Pansy and Blaise are also little shits, Hermione Granger is downright scary, Ronald Weasley totally called it, and Draco really needs to stopchecking Harry Potter out every chance he gets.





	grant that we may feast (in fellowship)

**Author's Note:**

> For Prompt #[2](https://docs.google.com/document/d/1E_uQJlIb5C6nLnMg8VrUUnrKtyx16is1FLbyvoxLEik/edit).
> 
> Wow, this has been awesome and amazing, and I am so proud that I got to be a part of Food Fair! Thank you to my amazing beta, S, who helped me fix all my typos and gave me amazing suggestions! Thank you to the mods, who put in so much hard work into organizing the fest and are so patient with answering my questions. And lastly, thank you to phoenixacid for writing the prompt! I had so much fun with it and I hope you all like it!
> 
> The title is taken from the traditional table prayer for Thanksgiving.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter characters or actual story. That is all the work of the wonderful J.K Rowling. The only thing I own is the plot of the fic.

The vast number of students gathered in the Great Hall on the first Friday morning of the year. A grey mist hung over the Hall and millions of pairs of eyes watched the Headmistress as she walked up to the platform. The news couldn’t be good, Draco thought as he studied her somber eyes. But then again, weren’t her eyes always like that these days?

“Students,” Professor McGonagall (that was how she preferred to be addressed, even after becoming the Headmistress) announced in her loud and clear voice, “it has come to my attention that all the house elves that work so hard to supply meals to us every day need a day off. When asked what day they wanted as a holiday, they all voted for Sunday.”

Draco turned to Pansy, who was also looking at him with wide eyes. Sunday was the day when the house elves made exotic and special foods to eat, and they always made extra dessert. No extra dessert? That was a crime, according to Draco. He was just about to point that out to his friend, but then the Headmistress spoke again.

“I’m sure you all are disappointed that they have chosen Sunday, of all days, to take the day off. But, I have a new way we can still let the hardworking house elves rest and still enjoy the special food.”

Draco noted a hint of bitterness when she said ‘hardworking house elves’. Maybe even she wasn’t okay with the idea of the little buggers choosing Sunday as a day off either.

“The oldest students- the seventh years, and the eighth years as well, will be cooking the meals every Sunday!”

At this, there was an uproar. Draco was pretty sure no one wanted to waste their time in the Hogwarts kitchens on a Sunday when there were better things to do- go flying, finish up last minute homework. He sighed. Probably best to do all that on Saturday then.

“Silence!” Professor McGonagall yelled, casting a _Sonorus_ to amplify her voice. “There will be no arguing and no getting out of this! Now,” she took off the charm when there was silence. “The way this works is simple. This Sunday, we will have the seventh year Gryffindors cooking in the kitchens, and then the next we will have the Hufflepuffs, the Ravenclaws, and then the Slytherins. At the end of those four weeks, the rest of the school votes for the house that cooked the best meal, and that house,” she smiled, looking smug, “wins _two hundred_ House Points.”

Draco turned to see his best friend gaping at the Headmistress. “Two _hundred_?!” Pansy shrieked, not even trying to whisper. “Has McGonagall gone up her tree at last, then?”

He was about to answer, but then the professor continued to speak. “Eighth Years, the rules are a bit different for you. Follow me,” she said, walking towards a side door. “All other students are dismissed for classes.” Draco rose and followed Pansy through the throng of people leaving the Great Hall. McGonagall led them through a side door and then stopped.

Draco turned to see his other fellow Eighth Years. There weren’t very many of them. There were four Hufflepuffs: the Abbot girl, her friend Susan Bones, Ernie MacMillan, and a Hufflepuff that he didn’t know the name of. Then there were some Ravenclaws-he recognized the Chang girl easily, and Lovegood as well. He also recognized Padma Patil who was talking to her sister, Parvati, who was a Gryffindor. There were mostly Gryffindors however: Finnigan, Thomas, Granger, Brown, Weasley, and Potter. Wait- Potter was at Hogwarts?! How did Draco miss him? The untidy black curls, the olive skin, the brilliant green eyes that looked almost catlike, and the scar. Of course. He didn’t realize he was staring at Potter until Pansy nudged him and, when he turned to her, winked. He glared at her, and turned back to Potter, noticing that the other boy was staring at him as well. He could feel the colour rising in his cheeks and turned away to where the Headmistress was talking.

“Since there aren’t very many of you, you Eighth Years will be doing a joint house competition. In total, there are eighteen of you: four Hufflepuffs, five Ravenclaws, six Gryffindors, and three Slytherins. The Hufflepuffs and the Ravenclaws will work here on two Sundays of the month and the Gryffindors and Slytherins will work here on another two Sundays. You all will be in charge of making the desserts. Also, you all will be cooking together on the first Saturday of every month for a bit of inter-house cooperation. This includes all meals, not just dessert. The school will also vote on who made the best dessert and those two houses receive one hundred points each.”

Blaise appeared next to them. “Sounds like fun, if you ask me,” he whispered to them.

“I will now leave you to go to your respective classes. Dismissed!” Professor McGonagall then promptly walked out of the door through which they had come.

Immediately, the students began to talk. “My mum taught me how to make these special sweets that just melt on your tongue!” He heard Padma Patil say to someone. “Well, we should use your recipe then. That sounds much better and will help us win for sure!” He heard Ernie MacMillan saying. He turned to Pansy and Blaise, and then saw the sneaky smiles that were slowly creeping up their faces.

“What?” He demanded. “Is there something on my face? You look like you’ve seen something on my face but you don’t want to tell me because you know I’ll go into a strop about it. Which I won’t.” Their smiles only grew. “You arses! Tell me! _What’s on my face?_ ”

The smiles disappeared in an instant. “Nothing.” The aforementioned ‘arses’ said in unison.

“Ta ta, darling!” Pansy called before the two idiots ran down the hall, snickering and leaving behind a fuming Draco. After running his hands through his hair and making sure there definitely wasn’t anything there, he sighed and shook his head, following his friends and wondering why, exactly, they were his friends because they acted like fucking two year olds.

As he walked away, a voice called out to him. “Hey Malfoy!” Of course it was _Potter_. “Wait up a second, won’t you?”

He sighed again and turned around. “What d’you want Potter?” Potter was grinning like it was Christmas, and it was quite disconcerting to Draco for some reason.

“I uh-” Potter scratched the back of his neck and looked down, suddenly shy. “I have your wand,” he said.

Draco was completely thrown off guard. “You what?”

“Your wand? The one that-”

“Yes, I know which wand you’re talking about Potter. What I meant to say was ‘you’re not up your tree right?’” Draco wondered about his wand.

He missed having his wand ever since that day that Potter had won it from him. Since he was too frightened to face Ollivander, his father had given him a couple extra wands to use, but none of them felt right. The magic in those other wands never called out to him like the magic in his wand. He had resigned himself to the fact that he would probably never get his wand back, but here Potter was, offering it back to him.

“Malfoy.” Potter’s voice snapped him out of his daze. “I was saying that if you want it back then I can give it to you. You just have to say the word.”

His voice was small when he answered, which he despised. _Malfoys are not weak!_ His father’s voice echoed in his head. “Yes, Potter. I would like that.”

“So, do you want to meet me outside the kitchens tonight so I can give it to you?”

Draco nodded, but then realized what he had said. “Why outside the kitchens?”

Potter looked sheepish. “I cook with the house elves sometimes and Friday night is one of those times.”

“You can cook?!” Of all people, he never really imagined to see Potter cooking. Potter was the kind of bloke who saved the world, not _cooked_.

“Yes. But I don’t like telling people that I do, so don’t tell anyone please.”

Draco nodded, and then realized that they were late to class. “I should go.”

Potter laughed, a cheery sound. “Yeah, maybe we should because both of us are late. What class?”

“Transfigurations. You?”

“Potions. Alright then. See you tonight, Malfoy!” And with that, Potter walked off and Draco realized that Potter’s friends weren’t with him throughout that whole exchange.

He turned to walk to Transfigurations, hiding the small smile on his face.

 

“So you do know where the kitchens are, Malfoy.” Potter was standing by the painting of fruit, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest and a smug smile on his face. “I’ll admit, I was starting to worry.”

“Shut up, Potter.” Draco retorted. “So, can I have the wand?”

Potter’s smirk softened. “Yeah.” He handed a black wand case over and when Draco opened it, he found his dark brown wand lying there. He quickly grabbed it and almost groaned in relief at feeling the magic connect with him again like a long lost friend. He cast a _Lumos_ , the tingling feeling of magic rushing through his arm satisfying him, completing him. He sighed, content, and then remembered that Potter was still there.

“Er-Potter.” Vibrant green eyes snapped to his. “Th-thank you.” He cursed himself for stuttering.

Potter looked amused. “You’re welcome, Malfoy. Hey, want to join me in the kitchen for a couple minutes? I don’t think I saw you at dinner.”

Draco didn’t answer because _how did Potter know that he had been skipping meals in the Great Hall and getting the house elves to bring food to the dorm for him?_ How much attention had Potter been paying to him? It’s not like he needed or wanted the extra attention.

“I’d prefer it if you didn’t _stalk_ me, Potter,” he retorted coolly. “But why not. Only a few minutes though, mind you.”

“Perfect.” Potter smiled broadly, displaying dazzling white teeth. “Follow me.” He turned to the painting, and then tickled the pear.

“Uh, Potter?” Draco said, pretty sure that the Savior had gone mad at last. “I don’t think you tickle-” his voice broke off as the door swung open. “Seriously? Of all things, you _tickle the pear_? What bollocks. I’m sure I will never understand Helga Hufflepuff, _ever_.”

Potter laughed heartily, throwing his head back. “I’ll actually agree with you there. I never actually understood why you have to tickle the pear to get inside the kitchens. I always wondered if Helga Hufflepuff was taking the piss with that one.”

“No kidding Potter. Tickling the pear? It’s like punching the grapefruit; you just _don’t do it_.”

Potter laughed again, and only then did Draco realize that they were in the kitchens. The walls were painted with foods of all kinds. There were multiple counters around the room, and many house elves hard at work. He watched Potter chat with them amiably, envying the ease with which he carried himself and talked to the house elves, who were all fawning over him. Draco hid his smile and followed.

Potter finally stopped after walking through a door. “The house elves let me have this section of the kitchen.” he proclaimed proudly. “It has this cupboard that gives you the ingredients that you run out of. Anyways, what do you feel like eating Malfoy?”

Draco took in the tiny stove, the mini fridge, and the whole row of dark cupboards. “I actually don’t know. Surprise me?”

Potter nodded, and then turned to the cupboards, pulling a bowl out of it. Paused a second, turning to him. “Want to help? We have to be here tomorrow anyway.”

Draco nodded. Potter smiled again. “Perfect. Can you grab tomatoes from the fridge and chop them?”

He walked towards the tiny fridge and opened it, seeing the tomatoes almost instantly. “How many?”

“Dunno.” Potter stares at his bowl. “Maybe three or four?” Draco grabbed the tomatoes and found a chopping board in the magical cupboard. Then he realized that he was not sure how to proceed.

“Uh, Potter?” he turned around watching Potter adding ingredients to the bowl. He noticed a pot of water boiling on the stove. “How do you want them chopped? I don’t know which way to chop tomatoes to not make your food explode. I think I need to chop it with the knife point facing north, but what do you-?” He was cut off by the sound of laughter. Potter’s laughter. “Potter!” He snapped, confused, and the idiot stopped laughing, and tried to put on a serious face.

“Malfoy,” Potter slapped a hand over his mouth, breaking out into helpless giggles, but stopped at seeing Draco’s death glare. “Right. Sorry. You just need to-er, dice them up. Don’t worry,” he added, seeing Draco’s nervous look, “food doesn’t explode no matter how you cut-” he started to chuckle. “-it.” Draco was pretty sure it became too much to handle because the prat just went back to laughing, slapping his thigh.

“Shut up you prick!” He was embarrassed now. Hiding the colour from his cheeks, he turned back to the infernal tomatoes and began dicing them, just as Potter had asked him to. How come when you cooked food, it didn’t matter how you did things? Finishing up the tomatoes, he turned back to Potter, who was blending the ingredients in the bowl together while adding a few more. “What should I do now?”

Potter turned and looked at the tomatoes. “Perfect,” he proclaimed. “Just hand those to me. I think that should be all. If you want to go and sit there,” he motioned to a small table in the corner, “then that would be perfect.” Draco walked to the table and sat down, watching Potter (but only because he had nothing else to do, he told himself).

Potter moved around the tiny kitchen with a grace that Draco hadn’t seen before during classes. He barely talked to Draco as he added in the last of the ingredients into the bowl and then grabbed something, putting it in the boiling pot of water. He grabbed another pan and then poured whatever was in the bowl into the pan, turning up the gas and stirring with a wooden spoon. He hummed a Weird Sisters tune as he worked, getting whatever was in the pot into the pan and then mixing it some more. He appeared to be finished as he mopped his forehead with the back of his hand and quickly grabbed a spoon, tasting whatever was in that pan, and then sighing in content. He turned to another cupboard, pulled out two plates, and then Draco saw what he had made: spaghetti. Draco mused over this. A simple meal really, but it could also be an extravagant one, depending on how one made their spaghetti. Potter quickly reached into the fridge, pulling out two sprigs of mint and setting them on the steaming dishes, picking them up with careful hands, and he totally was not ogling Potter’s’ fingers, no matter how long and graceful they looked.

“Spaghetti,” Potter said as he placed the bowl in front of Draco. “It’s actually really easy to make, and it was and still is one of my comfort foods at Hogwarts. And then I created my own recipe for it. I hope you like it.”

Draco looked at the steaming plate. “So, you made all of this?” He had never believed, never dared to imagine that Potter had so much talent.

Potter scratched the back of his neck; he looked uncomfortable. “Uh, yeah. I made the pasta from scratch a week earlier though, so this is just the last of it. Anyways, going to try it or are you going to just sit there?” He grinned at Draco.

“Uh-right.” He grabbed a fork that appeared on the table and then swirled the spaghetti around it, making sure to take as much sauce as possible. Carefully, he fit it into his mouth and pulled the pasta off of the fork.

What was this? Did a student make this, or an extremely advanced professional? The pasta was cooked perfectly and tasted perfect. But the sauce was explosive. The taste of basil and mint flooded his mouth with hints of garlic and other spices. He looked at Potter, who was staring at him in anticipation. “Uh, Malfoy? How is it? You look frozen. Oh no!” he moaned suddenly. “I knew I added too much mint. That much mint isn’t good for this sauce, I’m such an id-”

Potter!” Draco called, getting his attention. “This is amazing. What did you do?”

“Oh.” Potter blinked stupidly. “Y-you like it?”

“Like it?” Draco took another bite of the spaghetti letting the flavor rest on his tongue. “Honestly Potter, this is the best spaghetti I have tasted in _years_.” He looked up to see Potter blushing (which looked kind of cute, wait, NO it did NOT!).

“Well, thanks,” Potter said, taking his own bite of spaghetti. “It’s nice to have another opinion on what I cook.”

“Wait.” Potter looked at him as he spoke. “Do you bake as well? Desserts I mean.”

“Malfoy,” Potter said, grinning, “I do both.”

Draco felt his lips curl in a smirk. “Potter, we are _so_ going to win the competition.”

Potter just grinned. “Harry.”

“Huh?” he asked, too confused and full and sleepy.

“I said, call me Harry. I don’t want us to call each other by last names anymore.”

“Alright,” Draco agreed, sleepy, “I guess you have to call me Draco then, right?” He stood up. “I’m going to get going.” Pot- _Harry_ nodded.

“Go ahead,” Harry said, smiling softly. “I still have a couple more things to discuss with the house elves anyway.”

On his way to the door, he stopped. “Pot-Harry, does this make us...acquaintances?”

“No, Draco,” Potter said, and Draco’s heart sank (wait, no, it didn’t. A Malfoy’s heart did NOT sink). “I’d say we’re friends.”

Draco left the kitchens with a visible smile on his face this time.

 

The stone wall that lead to the Slytherin Common Room opened as he sleepily murmured the password. He was ready to just collapse onto one of the couches, but two figures standing in the common room with their arms crossed prevented him from doing just that.

“H’lo Blaise, Pans,” he waved at them. “I thought you two were asleep.”

Pansy smirked, running a hand through her short black hair. “On the contrary Dray, we thought you were asleep. But turns out you had other plans, huh? Who is it?”

This made him more aware. “First off, don’t call me ‘Dray’. It’s unflattering. And second, I wasn’t with anyone! Why would you think that, Pansy?”

“Well,” she walked over to him and rested her hand on his shoulder. “First off, you’re _smiling_.” At Draco’s shrug, she continued. “Uh, Draco? We had a conversation about this the other day on the train. Remember? ' _Malfoys do not smile_ ’,” she said, imitating his drawl and Draco scowled. “And also, you seem dazed. And based on previous experiences,” she smiled, a shark’s smile. “That only happens when you're with someone you fancy. So,” she sat down on an emerald green armchair and motioned for Draco and Blaise to sit down on the sofa next to her. Once they were seated, she continued. “Who is it?”

“What do you mean, ‘who is it’?” Draco sighed, focusing on his best friend and pushing out all memories of Potter. “I wasn’t with anyone, honestly. And how do you even know that I smile when I’m around someone I fancy? I smile around you two. Anyways, I’m knackered. I really just want to head back to the dorms and sleep now, so-”

“You’re not going anywhere.” Pansy smiled that shark’s smile again. “If there’s someone who’s making you happy, then don’t you think we deserve to know who it is? And sure, you smirk around us and sometimes give the occasional smile, but you never _beam_.”

“Pansy!” Draco whined, dragging out the ‘y’. “Come on, let me be, I’ll tell you tomorrow.”

“And what are the chances of you doing that?” Blaise chimed in and Draco groaned, starting to get frustrated. He really hated his best friends at times like these (even though they were right, wait NO they were not).

"Stop acting like my parents!” Draco snapped, finally losing his patience. “Merlin, you two just won’t leave me alone! I mean-” he noticed Pansy’s eyes narrow. “-I love you both, it’s just I don’t need the constant attention.”

Pansy glared at him. Oh shit. She must be mad. “Draco, we have every right to watch over you constantly! How dare you say that we have no right! It could be like sixth year again when we were all fighting and then you suddenly-” her voice broke off and then she was crying. Blaise walked next to her, wrapping his arm around her.

His voice was cool as he spoke. “Draco, as much as you don’t like it, Pansy and I have to watch over you. You remember what happened after that incident with Potter in the bathroom, don’t you? You worried us so much, and Pans had so many breakdowns-she loves you Draco, _we_ love you, and you can be mad at us all you want because we asked you who you were with, but that does not mean you can play the ‘you all are acting like my bloody parents’ card, because I don’t like it when Pansy is like this, she doesn’t like it when she’s like this, and I know you don’t like it when she’s like this. So cut the bullshit and either tell us, don’t tell us and still act like a friend about it or just don’t. Because you have no idea what Pansy and I went through, so don’t even try using that line, Draco. Because it may have just been a simple sentence to you but that ‘simple sentence’ is a year’s worth of grief for us.”

Draco looked down. He was an absolute arse, messing about with Pansy like that. “Pansy,” he told the girl who had stopped crying and was rubbing her eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m such an arsehole for doing that to you. I shouldn’t have even brought it up. I love you too, Pans, and it hurts to know that I’m the one making you feel like this.” The incidents in sixth year had only brought them closer and more determined to protect each other and Draco had messed up, saying the wrong thing at the wrong time. “Honestly, you’re like a sister to me. And I don’t want you to be sad.”

Pansy looked at him, eyes rimmed red. “Alright,” she said finally and then she visibly perked up. “Does that mean you’ll tell us who it is?”

Draco laughed. “Uh, I think you’re getting just a little ahead of yourself, Pansy, dear.” She pouted, but it was obvious that she wasn’t upset anymore.

“Come on Drama Queen!” she said, imitating Draco’s drawl again. “Tell us! Who have you been with? You’re all smiley and Mr. Sunshine, so something’s wrong. Do you really plan on scaring the poor first years because you’re _smiling_? Which, by the way,” she added, laughing now, “you never do.”

“Hey!” Draco called defensively, “I do smile you know.”

“When?” Pansy challenged, eyes narrowing in challenge.

“What about that time when-” he thought aloud, “no, I meant the time when we- ugh I can’t think of anything!” Pansy smiled her shark’s smile again and Draco mock-glared at her. “Doesn’t mean I don’t smile! I am human, you know.”

“And yet we haven’t seen you smile until now,” Pansy stated. And then she and Blaise proceeded to stare at him with smirks on their faces.

“You cheeky little shits! Why do you two keep staring at my face? What’s on my face, I demand that you tell me at once!”

The two grinned at each other. “Run, Blaise!” Pansy called as she jumped up and sprinted to the 8th year girls’ dorm, Blaise not too far behind her. Draco glared. He loved his friends, but sometimes, they were just a couple of shitheads.

 

Draco walked into the kitchens and noticed that the ceiling was spelled to look the same as the Great Hall ceiling, which was foggy, much like yesterday. He already knew he was one of the few people here: the Patil twins conversed quietly in a corner, Abbot and Bones were both here and were rubbing their eyes in obvious tiredness, and Finnigan, Thomas, and Weasley all sat at a kitchen table together. Blaise and Pansy were both asleep, the lazy sods, but he was up bright and early, getting changed and ready for a day of cooking with Harry.

He walked in further to where he had seen Pot-no, Harry, cook last night. His mouth watered as he thought of the delicious spaghetti combined with that delicious sauce and something in him actually wanted to see Potter again. He was so lost in thought that he didn’t notice the person bustling about in the kitchen until it was too late.

“Owch!” Draco jumped, springing back and then realized he had bumped into Harry himself. He grinned at the raven haired boy who was rubbing his head, making his hair messier than it normally was. “Oh. Hey Draco.” Draco’s grin widened. He may have even been beaming.

“Hello Harry.” He walked over to the stove. “What are you making?”

“I thought I’d make breakfast for everyone in here. I’m pretty sure no one went in the Great Hall for fear of McGonagall giving out a detention for forgetting to be in the kitchens.” Draco grinned, mainly because it was true. Everyone was scared of the Headmistress.

“So,” Draco peered into the pan. “What exactly are you making? And shouldn’t we be making breakfast for the whole school?”

Harry glanced at him in amusement. “You do know that the elves don’t have a day off today, right?”

Draco was confused. “Of course! But then why are we here?”

Now it was Harry’s turn to look at him incredulously. “Uh, Draco, we’re helping them. Well, I’ll be here mostly. There’s a Disillusionment Charm on the entrance to the kitchen so no one but you, me, and all the house elves can see it.”

“Does that mean I get to help you?” Draco asked.

Harry laughed, showing all his teeth. “Yes, Draco. You’re stuck with me the whole day. Isn’t that just horrendous?” he said the last sentence in a perfect imitation of his drawl, and as much as he hated to admit it, it was much better than Pansy’s. Of course, he would not tell her that unless he wanted a slap or a punch in the face, or worse, he thought.

“Oh yes. Whatever shall I do? I’m stuck here with you for the whole day Potter, I may have to ask you to start digging my grave as I’m sure I will be deceased by the time we’re done here.” Harry laughed again and turned around, turning the gas off of whatever he had made. Serving it on plates, he walked over to the exit. “Follow me,” he whispered, crooking his finger at Draco with a coy smile on his face. Draco definitely did not notice that his blood immediately rushed south. And he definitely wasn’t getting hard. No, he was not.

“Since you people just don’t seem to want to go out into the Great Hall for breakfast,” Harry announced, getting the attention of the others. “I had the house elves make us scrambled eggs.” He gave a plate to everyone, even Draco. “They were happy to, as they always are.” Everyone took a bite, and then paused. The chatter stopped. “What’s wrong?” Harry asked nervously, and Draco knew why, “Does it taste bad?”

Weasley chose this moment to shake his head and Harry’s eyes snapped to his. “Mate. This is amazing!” Everyone chose to chime in then, telling Harry to give their compliments to the hardworking elves. Draco smiled at Harry and told him through his eyes, how much he liked the food. Harry shivered and turned away, chatting amicably with the others until Granger came in, eating something.

“Hey guys,” she spoke through her mouthful of...whatever that was. “How come none of you were at breakfast? I sat with Gin, of course, but why were the rest of you chickens cowering in the kitchens?” Draco stifled a laugh. This girl was as witty and humorous as Pansy. He should try getting the two to be friends, he thought.

“Anyways,” Granger continued, shaking her bushy hair out of her face and ignoring the titters that rose from her previous comment, an ‘Oy!’ from her boyfriend among them. “McGonagall didn’t even do anything, but she seemed to notice that the lot of you are quite terrified of her, she told me.” The girl had a smug look on her face.

“Yeah, so I went to get breakfast. Well,” she looked at the thing in her hand that she had been eating, “chicken nuggets aren’t necessarily breakfast, but it’ll do.” She stopped her rant as she seemed to notice all the eyes in the room on her and that thing she was holding. “What?” Everyone stayed silent, but Harry started sniggering.

“Uh, guys?” Granger asked, cottoning on to what Harry seemed to be losing his shit over. “Have you guys ever seen- wait no. Let me rephrase: do you guys know what a chicken nugget is?”

Most of the people shook their heads, Draco included, but he noticed all the muggleborns and some halfbloods grinning, finally getting the joke, whatever that joke was. He turned to see Pansy and Blaise (who had arrived a few minutes before Harry’s breakfast was served) just as confused as he was. They all shared a look. What the hell was a chicken nugget? Granger seemed to be trying not to laugh when he looked back at her. “Right. Er,” she looked to Harry with wild panic and mirth as if asking how to explain what a chicken nugget was. Luckily, Harry took over, and he could see the relief in Granger’s eyes as he did so. “Thank you,” he heard her whispering to Harry, and the raven haired boy smiled in return, before starting to talk.

“Ok, um,” he seemed to struggle to come up with something. “A chicken nugget is normally made of chicken breast and it’s cut and then breaded and then deep fried. Or baked. Some people like their chicken nuggets baked.”

“Wait, they had those in the Great Hall?” Hannah Abbot asked, clearly confused.

“Um, no,” Granger answered. “I actually saw a house elves with some baskets of them and asked if I could have one.” Abbot nodded.

“Where can I get one of those?” Pansy spoke up and he turned to her, suddenly proud. He knew how much everyone hated her, as they did him, because she was the girl that pretty much told Harry to go and turn himself in.

Granger laughed. “I’m sure I can ask the house elves where they got them. Surely they can make more. But it’s great that you’re taking an interest, Parkinson.” Pansy laughed and Draco found himself grinning along. Wait, what was happening? What was this smiley feeling? Draco was pretty sure that up until last night, he couldn’t smile. Was he turning into a _Hufflepuff_? The thought alone made him cringe. He was so busy trying to think of other thoughts except for that one, he didn’t notice as an arm pulled him through a doorway. Snapping out of his daze, he turned to a smiling Harry.

“Ready to start?” he looked extremely excited, and Draco found himself smiling, again. _I am not turning into a Hufflepuff_ , he chanted in his head. He finally nodded at an expectant Harry, who was looking quite amused. “Honestly Dray, one would think you’re living on Mars.”

Draco glared at him. “Butcher my name like that again and then I’ll send you to Jupiter.” Harry laughed.

“Ok, ok, sorry,” Harry held up his hands in defense. “but we really do need to get started.” Draco nodded as Harry kept speaking. “So, the house elves wanted me to put in some breakfast items. Here.” He pulled out a list and handed it to Draco. Scrambled eggs, bacon, oatmeal, fruit salad.

“Is that it?” Draco asked and Harry replied with a quick ‘yes’ before turning around and pulling out a carton of eggs from the tiny fridge, the door opening and closing with a sharp snap.

“Draco,” Harry called and Draco looked at him, waiting. “I would really appreciate it if you started pulling out fruits for that fruit salad. I can do the scrambled eggs and bacon at the same time, but if you can chop the fruits and place them in a bowl for me, that would be perfect.” Draco nodded and went to the cupboard, pulling out grapes, apples, strawberries, blackberries, pears and mangoes. He started to methodically chop the apples, chatting to his friend as he worked. Soon, the apples were sliced and then were placed in a large bowl. It was only when Draco got to the grapes, he became confused.

“Uh, Harry?” He asked and turned to see him grinning widely with a smudge of grease on his nose. And Draco definitely did not find that adorable, or slightly sexy. Swallowing heavily, he pressed on. “Do you want me to crush the grapes? That releases the most juice, so,” without waiting for Harry’s answer, he grabbed a grape and crushed it with the flat end of his blade, scooping up the juice with his hand and adding it, waiting for some kind of reaction. When nothing happened, he frowned at the bowl. “Harry, it’s not working!” he whined and pouted, turning to his friend once again. Harry looked like he was desperately trying not to laugh now and when Draco glared at him, Harry collapsed and fell to the ground, chest heaving with laughter and tears running down the sides of his face.

“Draco!” He somehow managed to choke out, before breaking out into peals of laughter again. He was out of breath when he finally spoke again. “It doesn’t work that way!” He pushed himself up into a sitting position and then clutched his stomach, breathing heavily.

“You may be amazing at Potions, while I am absolute shit at it, but when it comes to cooking, I think you’re the one who’s shit at it!” He broke out in helpless laughter again while Draco just became confused. Wasn’t cooking like Potions? You add in the ingredients, combine them all together and then drink it. Or in this case, eat it. What did I do wrong? All these thoughts and more ran through his head as he watched Harry laugh, trying to sort out the confusion that was cooking.

“Harry,” he said, which immediately captured the young wizard’s attention. Well, only for a few seconds. All it took was one look at Draco before he was off again, rolling on the floor and heaving, practically crying with laughter. “Harry!” This time, the raven haired boy didn’t hear him and kept on laughing.

“For Merlin’s sake,” Draco groaned and then he snapped. “Potter!” This effectively stopped the nuisance and he shut his mouth, eyes wide. “Stop laughing for Merlin’s sake!”

“Fine,” Harry said, clearly trying to stifle another laugh. “But first you have to admit that you can’t cook.”

“What?” Draco was outraged. “I’ll have you know Potter, that I can cook, it’s just that-” he tried to come up with something. “-I’ve never made any breakfast items before. I mostly make desserts.”

“Uhuh. Sure.” Ha-Potter (after all, he was mad at him right now, wasn’t he?) did not sound convinced and crossed his arms over his chest and raised an eyebrow. Draco was not staring at his gorgeous forearms, he was definitely not. Draco growled low in his throat to show his annoyance but was startled when two bright spots of color appeared on Potter’s cheeks instead. “O-ok.” Was he stuttering? What was going on? Draco had no clue. “Let’s keep going then, shall we? Draco, for the grapes, just cut them in half and place them in the bowl. And, don’t add the mangoes.” Potter gestured to the ripe yellow fruit that was going to be cut after the grapes.

“Wait!” Draco was confused now. “Why can’t I add the mangoes?”

Har-Potter turned around, and placed something on the pan which started to sizzle delightfully. “Because it’s like having a group of, well in this case it’s fruit, and then putting a vegetable in it. Know what I mean?”

“Uh, no.” Draco stared at his mangoes. “But mangoes aren’t vegetables.”

“You’re right.” The infuriating prat added placidly. “But you’re adding a tropical and seasonal fruit to the regular year round fruits.” Draco stared at him, confused. “Draco, it’s basically like wearing a polka dot shirt on striped pants.”

It suddenly came to him and he screwed up his face as he pictured both articles of clothing. “Ugh. I see what you mean Potter. Did you get this newfound knowledge because you committed that crime yourself?” He banished the mango and then stared at the rest of the fruit. “So then that means that I can’t put the blackberries in there?”

Harry (he was tired of switching the names all the time, that was it) nodded. “I was waiting for you to notice that actually. See? You’re getting the hang of this!” Draco banished the blackberries.

“But what about the strawberries?” Draco prepared to banish them as well.

“Wait. Have you ever had a fruit salad?” Draco nodded. Of course he had. Harry continued, after sending him a bemused smirk. “Well, did you see strawberries in it?”

“I don’t remember!” Draco threw his hands up in the air in frustration.

“Fine,” Harry was still calm. “how often did you eat strawberries?” Draco didn't answer.

He remembered a beautiful day in the Manor, back when the Dark Lord was gone and his family never had to worry. He remembered hearing his mother laughing, his father laughing with her, an arm wrapped around her, both parents pulling him into a hug. To say that his younger self was surprised was an understatement. He had frozen, wondering what had happened and his father told him the news: he was free, a boy named Harry Potter had saved them, and they would be a happy family. To celebrate, all the house elves had served fresh strawberries with cream. They had also made other things, but the strawberries were his favorite...the sweet cream mixing with the even sweeter taste of the strawberry. Now, that fruit only reminded him of past times, when he had a happy family and not a broken one like he had now.

“I didn’t eat them much.” The lie slipped easily from his lips. “They weren’t my favorite fruit.”

“Really?” Harry sounded disappointed. “They’re my favorite fruit.”

“Yeah.” He ignored the hint of weakness in his voice. “I... I don’t have a taste for strawberries anymore.”

Harry gazed at him sadly, as if he was expecting Draco to go into details. “Alright. Well, strawberries are a regular fruit and they are pretty much year round. Not that I know that much about fruit.” He laughed nervously. “So the strawberries will go in the fruit salad.” Draco nodded.

“Right.” He methodically started to chop the fruit, ignoring the sudden prickling behind his eyes. When was the last time he had cried?

They cooked in silence, the aromatic smell of frying bacon filling the air. All the fruit was chopped and Draco placed it in a mixing bowl. Grabbing a spoon, he started to stir all of it together, watching as all the pieces of fruit were mixed together. Was this all for everyone in the Great Hall? Surely they would have to make more then, wouldn’t they? He turned to Harry, asking just that. “Well,” Harry sounded a bit unsure, “the house elves told me to just duplicate it and then give it to them.

“How many duplicates do we need? And why do you sound so unsure about it?”

“I’m not sure how magic would react to things that were made without magic. We can try it, of course, but then it may not work. And what then?”

Draco looked at the fruit salad. “I’m sure we’ll figure something out, you nitwit. Just duplicate it.”

Harry’s lip curled up when Draco insulted him and then cast a quick _Duplicare_ at the bowl and watched as a second bowl appeared with the salad in it. Harry moved efficiently, grabbing a lemon and squeezing the juice into both salads. He stared at the duplicate bowl for a second and then continued to work, adding other toppings to finish off the fruit salad.

“Why did you pause?” Draco knew that Harry never hesitated in the kitchen.

“If the magic didn’t work and any substance, solid or liquid, had touched it, then it would have disintegrated. But it seems fine. I guess we can keep duplicating. We need five bowl of fruit salad per table. We already have two. Eighteen more then.”

They set to work again, casting Duplicating Charms until twenty bowl of fruit salad sat on the countertop. “Alright then.” Harry looked at the huge amount of fruit salad and then called for a couple house elves. Draco watched as Harry cheerfully chatted with them. He wasn’t paying attention to what they were talking about, he watched Harry’s face as he smiled down at the elves and then let them take the bowls of salad. “Thank you!” Harry called out to them as they disappeared with a loud crack.

"Do you chat with them a lot?” Draco motioned to the place where the elves had vanished.

Harry nodded. “I never told anyone I cook except for you now, so it gets a bit lonely in here sometimes.”

Now Draco was curious. “How long have you been cooking in here?”

Harry sighed. “It’s hard to remember. The first time I came was in fifth year when Umbridge was driving me insane. And then in sixth year. I guess it’s become a sort of habit now. It’s like therapy.”

"Wait.” Harry’s eyes snapped to Draco’s and he had to steel himself lest he got lost in that sea of green. Was there a shade of green that could match the colour of Harry’s eyes? Probably not, and here he was, waxing rhapsodic over his former nemesis’ eyes. He should stop now.

“Uh Draco?” Harry sounded a bit impatient now. “I’m waiting.”

“R-right,” Draco stuttered as he came back to his senses, sure that he was blushing madly by now. Realizing what he was going to ask before, he composed his face into something more serious. “Why don’t you just tell them?”

Harry looked confused. “Tell who? And about what?”

“Your friends,” Draco repeated. “Why haven’t you told them, told anyone you cook. Well, except for me that is.”

Harry sighed. “I-look Draco, I don’t want to talk about this.”

“But why?” He walked over to Harry, placing his hands on his shoulders, ignoring how close they were to each other. “It doesn’t make any sense, Harry. And you can tell me you know,” he added for good measure. “I am your friend after all.” Merlin, it felt good to say that out loud.

Harry took a step back, avoiding Draco’s eyes. “Look I-I don’t want anyone to pay attention to me! And this,” he motioned to the kitchen, “is exactly what will attract more attention! ‘Mister Potter, what caused you to take up this new hobby?’” he angrily mocked a reporter from the Prophet. “‘Mister Potter, how did you learn to cook?’ and I don’t-”

“Woah, woah, woah.” Draco held up a hand to stop him and smiled when he did. “How did you learn to cook anyway?”

“That’s not important.” Harry waved him off and Draco knew that something wasn’t right. He let it go, for now. “And I haven’t told Ron and ‘Mione yet because, well, I don’t want to take up the attention by saying how I can cook, and also cooking is like my therapy, so I don’t want to talk about it to anyone.”

“Pause.” Draco chuckled at Harry’s murderous glare because of his interruption. “If you didn’t want to talk about it with anyone, then how come you told me?”

Red bloomed on the raven haired wizard’s cheeks and he looked down, looking beautifully bashful, and Draco wanted to pull him to his chest and never let him go (wait, no, he did NOT want to do that!). “I-I guess I find it hard to lie to you?”

Draco laughed. “Speaking of cooking, can you teach me?”

Harry stopped, shocked. “O-of course Draco. Why though?”

“Well, you know me,” Draco grinned at Harry, “I need to stop confusing Potions with cooking.” That was half of the truth anyway.

“All right.” Harry seemed to lose the shock from earlier and looked up at Draco with a serious face. “I come here on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, all in the evening. Can you meet me at those times?”

“Maybe not Friday,” Draco replied, thinking of all the weekend homework he’d have to complete that evening. “But the other two days should work. Thanks Harry!” And then promptly returned to cleaning up the counter and then going to help Harry.

They worked together well, Draco thought as he helped Harry finish the scrambled eggs and bacon and helped with the oatmeal. When they were finally done and all the bowls were in the possession of the house elves, Harry motioned to the door. “We should probably go and check on everyone else then, shouldn’t we?”

The moment they stepped through the door, Harry was assaulted with questions from his friends, asking where he was and why he was with Malfoy. Draco only received a knowing smirk from his friends and then he glared at them, which made them burst out into loud laughter, startling everyone else in the room except Draco.

“What?” Pansy demanded indignantly. “Just because we’re evil cold hearted bastards doesn’t mean that we can’t laugh.” Someone snorted and he turned and was surprised to see that Granger was the one who did so.

“I like you, Parkinson,” she proclaimed and walked next to his best friend and clapped her on the shoulder, surprising her. She jerked backwards for a second, clearly not expecting the physical contact, but then grinned at Granger.

“That won’t last for long,” she proclaimed, even as Granger shook her head and laughed, a full out laugh. Draco grinned as well. Her laugh reminded him of Potter’s. Both laughs had a carefree ease in them, and it made him relax. He turned to see Weasley’s jaw hanging open and walked over to him.

“Close your mouth sweetheart, you’ll catch flies.” Draco raised his hand and grabbed the shocked boy’s chin and gently pushed it up, effectively closing his open mouth. Then he walked over to Pansy and Granger, feeling the satisfaction of leaving a Weasley utterly gobsmacked.

Conversation started up in the room again as everyone moved back to what they were doing. “You absolute arse Pansy! I don’t even know why you’re giving me those looks.” Granger laughed and he turned to her. “Really Granger? You’re going to side with her on this? She made me believe something was on my face or in my hair yesterday!”

“I never said I was siding with anyone.” The corner of Granger’s mouth turned up into a smirk. “But how did you make him believe that, Parkinson?”

Pansy grinned, and Draco was sure that if she had pointy teeth, she would look very sharklike. “Oh, it was easy. You give him this look-I’ll tell you later. And it’s Pansy. Unless you changed your mind about liking me.” She grinned at the bushy haired witch who grinned back.

“Then I think it’s all right for you to call me Hermione. You as well, Draco.” She held out her hand to him and he shook it and nodded.

“What’s up with Weasley?” Blaise had walked up to them and shook Grang-Hermione’s hand as well.

“You can call him Ron, you know, it is his name.” She laughed at them but her face turned serious quickly. “Ron, well, he’ll have a bit of a problem adjusting to the fact that we’re friends now. But he’ll get over that, I’ll make sure of it.” Her eyes shone with a fierce determination and Draco knew she would do her best. “Oh, but I know someone who won’t and doesn’t have problems adjusting. Harry! Get your arse over here right now!” She yelled the last part and Merlin's left ball sack, she was one scary witch.

Harry practically ran over and Draco immediately knew that he wasn’t the only one intimidated by the witch. “Yes ‘Mione? Oh hey Draco.” He waved nonchalantly at him and Draco almost smiled back. Almost.

“Draco?” Granger-Hermione seemed surprised.

“Looks like I beat you to Draco. But not to Pansy, or Blaise.” Harry turned to Draco’s friends who were staring at him and trying not to be shocked. He offered his hand to Pansy. “Harry Potter. It’s very nice to meet both of you.” 

Pansy just stood there for a second. She had a good reason to anyway. It’s not everyday that the wizard you tried to sell out offers his hand to you in friendship. She composed herself and Draco watched her breathe in, then out. “Pansy Parkinson,” she finally said, in a voice so low, Draco could barely hear it, “and it’s very nice to meet you.” She took Potter’s hand and shook it. “Thank you,” he heard her whisper to Harry and the messy haired wizard smiled kindly back at her.

He turned to Blaise, holding his hand out much like he did for Pansy. “Who am I to say no to an offer of friendship from the Golden Boy?” Blaise laughed and Harry laughed along with him before they shook hands.

Harry placed his hand on his chest and fluttered those long eyelashes. “You knew you couldn’t resist me.” That set all of them off and they laughed together for a while before Gra-Hermione straightened up.

“We should probably start working again. The house elves need help with lunch and there are some things they want us to do like-” she was cut off when a spoonful of mashed potatoes slammed into her face, effectively stopping her speech. “Who did that?” She whirled around and everyone flinched.

“Sorry ‘Mione!” Weasley grinned sheepishly. “It was this bloke’s fault.” He pointed at Finnigan. “He threw jam at me!” He motioned to his hair, which was filled with deep pink jam. “And then to get back at him, I threw a spoon of mashed potatoes at him but he ducked. Damn your reflexes Seamus.” That last part was addressed to the sandy haired wizard sitting next to him.

“What?” Finnigan raised his hands in defense. “It isn’t my fault that you have the reflexes of a, what was it Dean? A slock?”

Thomas shook his head, leaning in to press a quick kiss to Finnigan’s cheek. “A sloth. You know, the animals that sleep all day and move really slow?”

Finnigan snapped his fingers. “Yes, a sloth!”

Weasley groaned. “Well, I’m pretty sure you have the worst reflexes.” He stared Finnigan down. Draco tried not to laugh right then and there. He looked over to Harry, who was helping Hermione with the mashed potatoes on her face and having the same problem.

“And what makes you say that?” Finnigan retorted, crossing his arms over his chest. Though it didn’t look as attractive as it did when Harry did it. Wait, what? No! He did not find Harry attractive!

“Because of this!” Weasley proclaimed and then threw more mashed potatoes that went splat on Finnigan’s face.

“Oh you’ll pay for that one, you arse, Ronald Weasley!” Finnigan picked up a spoonful of jam and then threw it. But you can’t count on someone’s aim when they’re half blinded by mashed potatoes and it hit Draco, the jam oozing down his cheek and staying there.

Everyone stared at Finnigan in horror and then turned to Draco, waiting for his next move. _Okay, calm down. It’s just a bit of jam and-_ Someone started to snicker. And then that person laughed that achingly familiar laugh, and Draco turned to glare at the culprit. Oh, to hell with it all. He pointed his wand at the bowl of jam. “ _Expulso! Protego!_ ” he yelled and the bowl of jam exploded, sending glass and jam to everyone in the room, except for him, as the jam just hit his shield charm and dripped off of that. He looked at all the shocked faces in the room and then started to laugh. It started off as a chuckle, but then became a full blown out laugh as he took in the sight of everyone.

Weasley, Thomas, and Finnigan were dripping pink jam and all three of their mouths were open. That made him fall to the floor like Harry had done earlier in his kitchen and laugh down there. Then Hermione started to laugh and then Pansy, Blaise, and Harry until the whole room was heaving with laughter. He cancelled the shield charm and then Harry walked up to him.

“Hey Draco, you want a hug?” His eyes became wide and innocent and Draco started to back up.

“Uh, no thanks Potter, you know I don’t like hugs.” Draco turned and ran, dodging all the people in the jam covered kitchen. “ _Accio stools! Wingardium Leviosa!_ ” he yelled and all the stools in the kitchen levitated to form a perfect barrier. He smirked. “Hey Potter.” Harry grinned at him as he calmly walked over to the stools. “Seems like you’ve got yourself in quite a,” he paused to choose his next word carefully. “jam.”

“Not for long Malfoy.” The competitiveness was back, the chase was on; Harry leaped over the stools as Draco started to run. He turned to cast a Trip Jinx at Harry and grinned as he heard a thud from behind him. He missed this, missed the thrill that came from competing with Harry. He created another barrier of stools but then got hit with Harry’s Jelly Legs Jinx. He fell over, groaning at the sudden flare of pain and then easily nullified the jinx. He ran around all his jam covered classmates and then he was running towards Harry’s kitchen, he’d find an escape route from there. When he ran in, he realized that now that he was in, he had no way out. Damn him, he was an idiot and now he was going to get covered in the sticky pink jam by a messy haired wizard.

The aforementioned ‘messy haired wizard’ chose to walk in at that moment, grinning evilly. Draco gulped in anticipation, but definitely not to try and calm the raging hard on he had at the moment. Thank Merlin for wizarding robes. “Missed me Draco?” Harry smirked and all the blood in Draco’s body rushed south. “I think you need a hug.” Harry spread his arms wide and started to walk towards Draco.

He glanced around wildly, hoping to find an escape to his sticky fate but to his avail, there wasn't any. “Uh, I don’t think I want a hug.” _He’s going to ruin my hair!_ Draco mentally screamed as Harry’s sticky arms closed around him. It did feel quite nice though. Wait, no it didn’t! Harry’s arms circled around him and pulled him so that their torsos touched. Draco refused to let their hips do the same. He did not want Harry to know about his little problem. He closed his eyes as he felt the jam on his clothes and almost cried when he felt it in his hair. The sneaky little shit must have put the jam in his hair! Harry pulled back and grinned and Draco almost groaned at the loss of contact. And then he remembered what Harry had just done to him. “You imbecile, you’ve ruined my hair!” He reached up to run his hands through it, cringing when he felt the jam there. Harry only started to laugh at him.

“You’re such a girl, Draco.” Draco stopped running his hands through his hair to glare at him.

“You take that back!” he marched over to Harry.

Harry only laughed a bit more. “I can’t take it back if it’s true. Honesty is the best policy, isn’t it, Malfoy?”

Draco rolled his eyes at him. He cast a Cleaning Charm on himself. Then, as an afterthought, he cast one on the kitchen too.

“Uh, hello?” Harry’s amused voice came from behind him. “Aren’t you going to cast a Cleaning Charm on me?”

Draco looked back at him. “You have this thing called a _wand_ , you know. Use it.” He turned away and started to get out bowls to prepare for lunch.  
  
“You have no idea what we’re making for lunch, do you?” Draco glared at Harry. “Okay, fine. If you cast a Cleaning Charm on me, then I’ll tell you what we’re making for lunch.”  
  
“Ugh, fine!” Draco quickly cast a quick Scourgify on Harry.

“Okay, so we’re not doing much for lunch.” Harry ran a hand through his hair. “Everyone outside has more work to do as they did less than we did for breakfast. The house elves already prepared the meat but we need to make a honey glaze for it. Also we have to make cookies and we have to make a regular salad as well.” Draco nodded and Harry smiled at him, showing both rows of teeth, his sparkling emerald eyes focused on him, and him only. Wait, when did I start sounding like a sappy and lovesick idiot? Merlin. One would think this obsession with Harry bloody Potter would have died down by now.

‘Oh, so you’re admitting it’s an obsession?’ Harry’s voice, light and teasing, echoed through his head. Draco groaned inaudibly. This was not fair. At all.

He realized he had spaced out when fingers snapped in front of him. Harry peered at Draco with concern. “Are you alright Draco?” When Draco nodded, he continued, “You seemed a bit lost in your own world.”

“Shut up Harry,” Draco retorted and turned to the counter before realizing that he had no idea what he was supposed to do. “Uh, what am I doing again?”

Harry grinned. “You need to up your game on the insults, but,” his face became more serious, “I think you can help me with the glaze and then we’ll do the cookies and the salad together. How does that sound?” He turned his eyes onto Draco.

Swallowing all the longing and want to pull Harry to his chest, Draco nodded. “Sounds great.”

 

Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday passed by in a flash. Classes were attended and homework was completed. Draco impatiently spent his days working on extra classwork, waiting for the day when he could cook with Harry again. Their first little teaching session had gone extremely well. Harry had chosen to teach him to make a special sandwich that he called a ‘caprese’. The sandwich itself was made with fresh mozzarella cheese, basil, and tomato. Draco had never had a caprese before, but he had to admit that it was delicious. He knew he’d be making it again. It wasn’t perfect, but Harry assured him that with practice, he would become good.

It was quite a chilly Wednesday evening when Draco went down to the kitchens. He immediately walked into Harry’s kitchen, offering a small wave when he saw the other wizard already there. Harry was wearing casual Muggle jeans that hugged his figure and a black form fitting shirt. Draco gulped as Harry waved back to him and motioned to the empty spot next to him where some tomatoes lay next to the stove.

“Alright Draco,” Harry started, “tonight I thought we’d make pasta. I also want to focus on teaching you how to make a proper tomato or marinara sauce. This is different from the one I made for the spaghetti. I think that it’s always good to know how to make your own sauce because cooking pasta is simple and you can buy it at stores anyway. I’ve already set a pot of water to boil on the stove for the pasta. We’ll wait for it to boil, but meanwhile, we need to boil these tomatoes.”

“Wait, hold up a minute.” Draco picked up one of the smooth tomatoes. “We’re boiling the whole tomato?”

Harry nodded. “Yes. We don’t need just one part of it. The reason we boil the tomato is to make it softer and easier to mash.”

“That sounds barbaric. Why would we mash a tomato?”

“Well Draco, if you’d been paying attention the last time, you’d notice that tomato sauce is basically mashed tomatoes.” Harry grinned at him and his heart leaped. I can’t really be…no. I’m not falling for Harry bloody Potter of all people!

“Ugh,” he groaned out loud but obediently placed the tomatoes in a pot of water and turned the gas up.

“Come on, Draco,” Harry’s voice was insistent, but his eyes were soft, “cooking can be disgusting. It may even be grotesque, what you have to do to a piece of meat sometimes. That doesn’t mean you don’t do it. The preparation for the perfect final product may not be so perfect.”

Draco nodded. “Alright. Let’s do this. What else do we have to do?”

Harry grinned at him and placed a hand on his shoulder. Draco tried not to let his eyes linger on those fingers. “So while the tomatoes are boiling and getting softer, I thought we could prepare vegetables to put in the sauce. Marinara sauce sometimes needs something extra to it, to give it that flavor. In this case, it’s even more important as we’re not making the sauce the way I made it on Friday. That sauce had mint and spices in it, but this one won’t. So, bring out about five mushrooms and a bell pepper from the cupboard, will you?” Draco went to get it even as Harry kept speaking.

“We want to dice the bell pepper, and don’t get any of these,” he sliced the pepper Draco handed him in half and pointed at the small white seeds, “in the sauce. And for the mushrooms, I’ll do one and then you do the rest. Okay?” Draco nodded.

Harry grabbed one small mushroom and washed it under the faucet. Then he twisted the stump of the mushroom off with ease and then proceeded to cut the head of the mushroom into thin slices. “You got it or do you need help?” Draco stared at him wide eyed. “Don’t worry. It’s not as hard as it looks, you know. Mushrooms are incredibly light, you got this.” Draco picked up a mushroom and washed it thoroughly. But when he pulled the stump off, some of the head came with it.

“You know, you don’t have to pull off the stump like you’re trying to murder it.” Draco glared at the git. Harry just looked amused. “Be gentle and don’t yank it off. Carefully twist it off instead.” They got through the mushrooms with no more comments.

“So now what do we do?” Draco placed his hands on his hips and stared at Harry, waiting for instruction. Which was surprising. What happened to ‘Malfoys give the instructions’?

“Ok, so now we turn off the gas under the tomatoes and then use a strainer,” he held up a small metal object with metal wiring, “to pour the boiling water out. Then, carefully peel away the tomato skin. While you’re doing that, I’ll add the pasta and the salt to our other pot of boiling water.” He turned to do just that while Draco quickly ridded the pot of boiling water. Cringing at the heat of the tomato, he peeled the skin of it away until all that was left was a soft red ball.

Harry pulled a bowl towards him. “Okay, perfect. So now, you have to mash these tomatoes until it becomes a paste of sorts. This is essentially the ‘sauce’ that we’re aiming for.” Draco pulled a face at the tomatoes and the other wizard chuckled and handed him a wooden spoon. “Mash it with this and then you can stir it.”

Draco cringed as he mashed the tomatoes into a pulpy mess and stirred it. What was this mess? Harry grinned at him when he finished and placed a warm hand on his shoulder. “All right. Now, we pour the sauce into a pan,” he pulled out a pan and helped Draco do so, “add the vegetables, and then turn on the gas. We let it cook for a bit until the vegetables are softer. And while that’s going on,” he removed his hand from Draco’s shoulder and he shuddered at the loss of contact. “grab a bottle of chili flakes and add that to the sauce.” He could feel Harry’s eyes on him as he grabbed the bottle, but was stopped as he started to pour. “Don’t pour in too much, mind you.” When he had poured a little bit in, then Harry grinned from behind him holding a bag of white shavings.

“What is that? And if you tell me we’re going to put white chocolate in here, I’m going to lose it!” Harry laughed. “No, Draco. These are garlic shavings that I use for pasta sauce. You just have to add two pinches of it.”

“Why only two pinches of it? Surely that’s not enough.”

“Ah, but this garlic is quite strong. Don’t argue, because once I put in more than two pinches and it was incredibly strong.” Draco sighed in annoyance and added two pinches of the white shavings.

“Last but not least,” Harry held up a small pouch of what looked like chopped basil, grinning triumphantly, “we add basil for more flavor.” Draco added the basil and sighed. Hopefully that was it and then he could eat in peace.

A hand rested on his wrist and when he turned around, emerald eyes bore into his. “And now,” Harry’s voice was a little more breathy. “you just stir the ingredients together and then you can turn the gas off.”

When did he get this close? Harry’s face seemed to be closer and Draco started to panic. He wasn’t even sure what this was, what this obsession with Harry even was. Slowly, he moved his face back until he could see Harry’s entire face. He looked into those eyes for a bit longer and then tore his gaze away, wishing he hadn’t done that.

 

Thursday, Friday, and Saturday almost crawled by, and Draco found himself impatient and waiting for Sunday to arrive; he had another person he could call a friend and he had Harry to look forward to. After their almost-kiss (was it an almost kiss anyway?), Draco was more on edge than ever, but he finally decided to pretend that it never happened and moved on from it.

What would have happened if he had kissed me? Draco had wondered on Saturday night as he lay in his bed. He tried to picture it; that scene in the kitchen popping up like some of those old Muggle movies he, Pansy, and Blaise watched over the summer. Harry’s eyes shone emerald and Draco got captured by them, really it was silly how sappy he was over one person’s eyes. Harry leaned in and he could almost feel the invisible brush of lips. They kissed once, twice, three times and then the feeling is gone; Draco coming back to his senses, hard and wanting more.

A quick wank wouldn’t hurt anybody, would it? Casting Silencing and Privacy Charms, he settled more comfortably in his bed, desperately shoving his hand down his pants to wrap around his cock. He groaned as he pictured Harry kissing him again and again, grinning with that open hearted beam he loved so much, and stroked faster, willing himself to reach climax as soon as he could. The Harry in his mind kissed him fiercely now, slipping his tongue in Draco’s mouth, and Draco lost it, coming promptly with a cry, grateful for the Privacy Charms he had put up.

He lay panting in the darkness, shame suddenly filling him. What had he just done? He had wanked to the memory of another boy, and it was all so new. Maybe he was going through a phase. Living his life right now while he was young. Maybe later he’d realize that he was being an idiot, fantasizing about a boy like that, besides Harry didn’t even like him li-

A sound cut off his train of thought and he stiffened up, but then realized it was probably someone needing to use the bathrooms. He also had wards up around his bed anyway; what was the point of worrying? Sighing and pushing all thoughts of an infuriating emerald eyed wizard with messy hair away, he drifted off to sleep.

He woke up on Saturday morning feeling slightly groggy, until the events of last night flooded through his head. He had just wanked over his former-nemesis-now-friend, who also happened to be a boy. What did this mean for him? Shaking his head, Draco got up and made his way to the bathroom to get ready.

Draco chose to wear casual Muggle clothes today. He, Blaise, and Pansy had gotten them over the summer and all of them agreed that they were comfortable and stylish, if one knew what to buy. He slipped on black comfortable jeans and a light gray sweater that Pansy had deemed ‘the one she would have gotten if the sweater came in her size’.

Seeing Harry as he walked into the kitchen only brought a fresh wave of embarrassment that flooded through him. Harry grinned at him and waved and it felt like Harry knew what he had done last night, even though he had put up strong Privacy Charms and wards around his bed. Merlin, what was going on with him? He figured that it was a side effect of being around a certain Gryffindor most of the time. “Hey,” he said as he entered Harry’s kitchen.

“Hi!” Harry cheerily waved at him again, smiling that wide smile of his that made his heart swell up. But something seemed a little too off, a little too fixed about that smile.

“Are we the first people here?” Draco crossed the room over to Harry. The other wizard was wearing snug ripped blue jeans and a deep red polo shirt, exposing his forearms that Draco was not currently drooling over.

“Yeah.” Harry’s voice snapped him out of his daze and looked up to see him staring firmly at the contents in the bowl that he was mixing.

“So,” Draco peered into the bowl that Harry had been mixing. “What exactly are you baking?”

Harry stopped stirring. “I’m making more cookies because the house elves were telling me how much the students liked it. Want to help?”

Draco nodded. Should be easy enough, they had made them last week on Saturday. “Wait, how long do we have to be here?”

“Not long.” Harry continued to stir the cookie dough. “Since it’s just dessert, we don’t have to make as much as we did last week. That’s on the seventh years.” He grabbed a tray and then started to mold the dough into the round shape. When he was done, he placed it in the oven and set a timer. “So.” He quickly grabbed a short list off of the table. “The cookies are in, so now all that’s left is the pie, the treacle tart, and then the ice cream.”

Draco stood there awkwardly as Harry started to get out the preparations for the pie. “Need help?”

Harry glanced at him. “Sure. Can you cut slices of apple for me?” Harry sounded distant, like he was thinking about something else. Maybe he’s stressed with all these NEWT level classes.

Draco nodded and grabbed some apples. They worked in silence, each second growing even more awkward. Then suddenly, Harry burst out: “Do you hate me Draco?”

“What?” Draco dropped the apple he was slicing and picked it up just as quickly. “Why do you ask?” Why would you think I could ever hate you? The only person I have to hate is myself.

“No reason.” Harry’s cheeks flamed red (which looked quite adorable on him) and he turned back to adding flour to another bowl.

“For the record, I don’t hate you,” Draco informed him and didn’t look at him. “I mean, I thought I did, but that was before. And I don’t think I’ve hated you for a while actually.” _Oh, it’s way off from hating you. The complete opposite actually. Wait, what?_

“Can I hug you?” Harry asked him, and then before Draco could reply, he had launched himself into Draco’s arms, squeezing tightly. This hug was different from when his mother did it, or even his father. This hug had everything thrown into it, but it was so soft, so tender. It was like the waves, Draco thought, the soft and gentle pounding of the water, the soft crash of water against shore. He didn’t want to let go.

But eventually, he did have to let go, and he did, wishing that he could hold Harry like that forever. Harry sighed as he let go as well, and for a moment, Draco wondered if Harry was thinking the same thing he was. Probably not.

“Thanks Draco.” Harry smiled at him, and this time, it was real. “Let’s get back to that pie, shall we?” And this time, they worked together in a comfortable silence.

They pulled the cookies out of the oven to cool; Harry even grabbed a cookie, splitting it in half and winking at Draco, saying that no one would notice; While they were preparing the pie crust, Draco, when Harry wasn’t looking, dipped a finger in the apple pie filling and then dragged it across Harry’s face when he turned back around; Harry had stared at him with shock before turning around, duplicating the pies until there were way too many, and before Draco had the chance to duck or cast a Protego, the pie was flung into his face and he spluttered over the delicious pie, but lobbed a couple at Harry with a quick Wingardium Leviosa. It was the most fun he had had in a while.

 

Draco should have seen it coming.

It was a cloudy Wednesday evening, and Draco went down to the kitchens for his cooking lesson with Harry. He was having so much fun with him, with all the cooking and baking they did. And today, he was quite excited, waiting to learn what Harry had in store for him tonight.

He walked into the kitchen and saw Harry sitting there, staring at something that was frying in a deep fryler? Was that what Harry had called it? Maybe it had to do with what they were making tonight.

“Hey,” he walked over to the table Harry was sitting at. “What’s going on? What are we making today?”

Harry stood up, the serious look on his face transforming into a smile. “Hey Draco! So, today, I think we will make a classic tomato soup and garlic bread. How does that sound?” Draco nodded his approval and then Harry started to help him with the cooking, helping him prepare the tomatoes and the bread.

They were about ready to place the bread in the oven when Draco asked, “What’s in the deep fryler over there?”

Harry snorted. “It’s a deep fryer Draco. And I’m just making chicken nuggets.”

Draco remembered when Granger had brought that on that Saturday a couple weeks ago. “What for?” He turned to the bread, getting ready to pick it up-

“Well, a couple muggleborns wanted them, but the house elves didn’t know how to make them, so they asked me to make it. Of course I agreed.”

Draco quickly put the pieces together. “So, when Grang-Hermione was eating chicken nuggets on that Saturday, those were really the ones you-”

“Made? Yes,” Harry answered and turned back to the tomatoes.

“Why don’t you tell them?” Draco asked, suddenly feeling a swell of irritation at Harry for not telling his friends, but telling him.

“We’ve been over this Draco.” Harry spoke coolly, the picture of calm, but Draco was sure that his hands were shaking as he stirred the tomato soup.

“No.” Draco spoke firmly this time. “Why won’t you tell them? You don’t need to tell everyone else, that’s for sure. And they’re your friends! Why can’t you tell them?”

“Draco, I-I just can’t! Now drop it.” Harry turned to glare at him, still stirring.

Draco threw up his hands in frustration. “I can’t drop it, don’t you see? Now why don’t you just ans-”

“No!” Harry stopped stirring, his green eyes blazing with anger? Passion? What was it in those mysterious eyes? “You don’t understand!” Harry’s angry voice cut off his thoughts.  
  
“Maybe,” Draco glared at him, “I would understand if you told me, you know!”

Harry walked over to the sink and washed his hands. “Yeah, well here’s the thing. I can’t tell you.” He bitterly glared at the wall over the sink.  
  
“Can’t or won’t?”

Harry fell silent, and Draco knew. “Why won’t you tell me? You even told me,” A Death Eater, he thought, but didn’t say that out loud, “that you cook, which is something you didn’t tell your friends. Why won’t you explain your reasoning then?” Anger and rage bubbled up inside him because Harry was just so stubborn and Draco wanted to punch him, or slap him, or-

Or kiss him. Draco really didn’t want to think about that right now.

“Look, Draco.” Harry just sounded tired now, weak, defenseless, and that only made Draco angrier. What happened to the fight in him, the fire? It was like he had just given up. “Can we just let the matter go? I don’t like fighting about this-”

Draco’s hands came down on the countertop hard and watched as Harry flinched. Ignoring the burn, he slammed them down on the countertop again. “No, Harry! You don’t have to tell the whole of the Wizarding World, that is not your responsibility! Why won’t you tell two people who have been with you through thick and thin, why won’t you answer my questions-”

“Answer your questions?” Harry laughed bitterly, as his voice rose. “You’re one to talk Malfoy. You think you can ask me all sorts of questions and expect me to answer, but when I ask you a question, you either avoid it or you stare off into space! Like that time I asked you if you wanted to make strawberries and cream, and instead of answering me, you stared off into space and snapped at me when I asked again. Wait! That happened day before yesterday! Well you know what, Draco Malfoy, you’re a spoiled stubborn brat and I hate you so much, you bastard!”

Draco went numb and Harry seemed to realize what he said. “Shit, Draco, I’m so-”

“Save it. You know nothing,” he hissed. “Oh, and one more thing.” Harry looked at him, and Draco was sure he was imagining the slight wetness in those green eyes. “Fuck. You.”

He left the kitchens with a silent rage burning through him, but ignored the tearing of his mending heart.

Draco should have seen it coming.

After all, Potters and Malfoys never get along. They never have.

 

Draco put his book down as he saw Pansy and Blaise walk into his room. It had been a full week since that fight with Harry-no, Potter, and he was still trying to realize that he would never be able to make jokes with him, cook with him, bake with him, or laugh with him again. Merlin, it was going to be awkward next Sunday, wasn’t it? He wasn’t bothered though. He’d planned to stick with Blaise and Pansy and hopefully, the insolent prat would leave him alone.

Blaise and Pansy had let him be for that week. Last week, Draco had stormed into the common room after his fight with Potter, and Pansy, who saw the look on his face had immediately tried to ask what was wrong but he had shrugged her off, and then felt grateful that neither had pushed him about it. He had attended his classes, but made sure to avoid Potter in all the ones they shared. He didn’t go for meals in the Great Hall again, instead eating in the kitchen when he knew that the raven haired wizard wasn’t there. For extra precaution, he had cast a Disillusionment Charm on one of his coats which didn’t completely hide him like an Invisibility Cloak would, but it was good enough.

In all the classes they shared, Draco always caught the other boy staring at him. The prat had even tried to apologize to him, but he was studiously ignored by Draco, who was busy trying to take notes. He couldn’t deny that he’s missed the raven haired wizard however. There was always this empty space in him that could only be filled by him. Why was it so impossible to hate him?

Back to the situation at hand. Right.

He took in his two best friends’ faces; Pansy’s pale face drawn up in worry and Blaise’s dark, handsome face set in a hard line which Draco had come to know as his ‘determined’ face. But what could he be so determined about?

“Draco.” Pansy spoke first, her voice a quiet caress in the silence in the emptiness of his room and it brought him back to reality; he had been spending so much time with Harr-Potter that he had forgotten about his best friends. What kind of a friend was he? A shitty one, apparently, his mind supplied and he mentally nodded, vowing to make sure to spend more time with them.

Blaise cleared his throat when it looked like Pansy wasn’t going to say anything else. “Draco, we’ve been worried about you.” Draco didn’t say anything, but he hung his head. Only a couple weeks ago, he had been reminded of what he had done to them sixth year and this just reminded him of it even more. “We’ve let you be for this week, mate. We know how much you need your space, but eventually, you’re going to have to tell us. We’re your best friends.”

Draco didn’t reply for a while. _Why hadn’t he told them?_ He could have told them everything, and maybe they could have helped with these confusing feelings, the anger, the pain-

“Draco?” Pansy’s voice was sharper now, but as he looked at her, he noticed the softness and the twinkling of her ice blue eyes. This wasn’t someone who would yell at him. This was a friend, someone who would hear and understand. But then why am I so afraid? “We’re waiting,” she said, giving him a small smile, which he returned almost instantly. Was she worried, when I isolated myself this week? That’s the last thing that I would ever want her to do.

His two friends stared at him, waiting for a response, when Draco spoke up. “Want to hear a story?” he asked.

They nodded and he smiled nervously at them. Blaise gestured for Draco to go on.

“There once were two boys who had come back for their final year at school. They hated each other, to say the least, at least that’s what one of them, the blond haired one, thought. So then, he was surprised when his nemesis, whom he thought he had hated gave him back, um, an old textbook that he had stolen and kept for a while.” He knew Blaise and Pansy would understand the code. “This caused a friendship to spark between the two. The two boys hung out together quite a lot and everytime, the boy who had gotten his old textbook back had started to notice more things about his former nemesis. His hair, his body, the sharpness of his eyes.” Draco saw a flash of Potter’s green eyes and something in him broke. 

“Anyways,” he cleared his throat, “then one day, the two boys had a horrible fight. And it was long overdue, but that broke their friendship. But still, the blond haired boy feels something for the other boy, even though he hates him now.”

Blaise and Pansy just stood there for a minute and then his arms were full of Pansy, who was hugging him so tight, he couldn’t breathe. “P-Pansy,” he choked out and she pulled back, concerned. “Sorry. I couldn’t breathe.”

“Wait, so, Draco.” He turned to Blaise, who was smiling at him softly. “Are you gay?”

Draco shook his head. “No. I think I’m bi because I’ve been attracted to girls as well.”

“And you like Harry Potter?”

Draco considered this for a moment. He thought of Potter, of Harry and his irresistible smile, his infectious laugh, those piercing green eyes. “Yes. As much as it still confuses me, as much as _he_ still confuses me, I do.”

“Oh, Draco.” Pansy’s eyes were moist when she pulled him into another hug, taking care not to crush him this time.

“It’s all right, Pansy. I’ll be okay.” _No you won’t_ , the voice inside his head chided him, telling him the truth. “And even if I won’t be okay, I don’t want you to be worried. The last thing I wanted to do was to worry you, and I’m pretty sure that’s exactly what I did last week.”

“Well, Draco,” Pansy pulled back but placed a comforting hand on his shoulder that shook slightly as she spoke. “I’m not going to lie to you and say that I didn’t worry. But I know that Blaise got me through it.” _Like he did in sixth year_. The words hung unspoken in the air, but was heard by all of them. A massive layer of guilt settled over Draco.

“Pansy, I’m so sorry,” he whispered and then pulled her into a hug. When he felt the prickling behind his eyes, he didn’t stop it and tears ran down his cheeks and into her ebony hair. “I’m the biggest arsehole to ever exist. Blaise, I’m really sorry for what I did.” He stared up at his other best friend who smiled genuinely and came in to join their hug.

“Draco, you’re forgiven.” Blaise’s deep voice rumbled around them. “You’re always forgiven with us, you know that right?”

“I do, but sometimes I know that I forget. How can I make it up to you guys?”

They all pulled away from each other. “Well,” Pansy started, a smirk appearing on her tear stained face. “You could get me Honeydukes’ newest chocolate collection, that new purse that I saw in this cute store, maybe one of those Muggle cars…” She started laughing at seeing Draco’s horrified look. “Draco, it was just a joke, you know!” Blaise guffawed loudly and Draco jumped, but then started laughing after Pansy and Blaise snickered at his reaction.

“You two are little shits…” Draco wrapped an arm around Blaise and an arm around Pansy. “But I love you both anyway.”

Two hours later, they were sitting in The Three Broomsticks, and Draco watched as Pansy and Blaise ordered their drinks and then opened the box of Honeydukes’ newest collection to share amongst the three of them.

“To our friendship, and getting sloshed,” Blaise said and smiled at Pansy, indicating for her to continue.

“To Draco’s obsession with one Harry Potter.” She giggled, clearly a little tipsy, and Draco kicked her lightly in the shin.

He kept his face blank. “To having the best ‘parents’ I could ever ask for.” And Blaise, who had already taken in a mouthful of his beer, spat it out, much to his amusement.

He stared at his friends’ faces, a slow smile building up over his face before they all broke out into raucous laughter.

_To finally getting over you, Harry James Potter._

 

Thursday passed, and Draco made sure to spend as much time as he could with Pansy and Blaise. He had woken up in his bed with a raging hangover and had gone to find Pansy, who groaned and handed him a Hangover Potion. The two had bought what George Weasley had called a ‘megaphlone’ from Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes that emitted an extremely loud noise when one pressed a button. They had woken up Blaise with it and he chased them around the common room for a good half hour, startling other Slytherins who were already ready for class. After their classes, they went to Hogsmeade again, but this time, it was just for shopping. They did have a couple of drinks at the Hog’s Head. They also went back to Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes and bought quite a bit of fun goodies. They had made friends with the remaining Weasley twin who told them to come back soon.

However, Draco still felt that empty space that he knew neither Blaise nor Pansy could fill. He ignored it for the time being and told himself that he would worry about it later. It didn’t stop the dreams at night however, dreams of one particular wizard with spectacularly messy hair, piercing green eyes, and a beautiful smile.

It was Friday evening when a very irate Hermione Granger burst into the Slytherin common rooms, seemingly appearing out of nowhere. “Hermione?” Pansy looked confused. “What are you doing here? How did you get in?”

“Hey, Pansy.” Granger seemed a little breathless, like she had run all the way here. “Used Harry’s invisibility cloak and although it’s great to see you,” She held up a piece of shimmering fabric, “it’s Draco I need to talk to. Mind if I borrow him for a moment?” Pansy nodded and Draco stood up.

“Can we go to your room?” She asked and Draco nodded. Why was she here? Is it Harry? I mean Potter!

They made it to his room and Draco motioned to the chair opposite his bed and she sank down on it. “Make yourself comfortable.” He sat on the bed. “What’s going on?”

“Look, I know about your altercation with him.” Draco froze. Of course he told her about that. She’s his best friend, why would he not? “And Harry’s really upset by what he said. Hell, I’m upset by what he said.”

“But then why are you here?”

“Harry isn’t talking to us anymore. He’s become so quiet and isolated. I’m scared, Draco. I don’t know why he’s acting like this, but I think I have a hunch.”

Draco cocked his head at her as she continued. “You need to go talk to him.”

“What? N-”

“Shut up, Draco!” she said, obviously losing her temper. She waved her wand and suddenly he was cast immobile. A non-verbal _Petrificus Totalus_ , huh? “Don’t just say ‘no’! I’ve sent him to the kitchen to do some cooking. He’ll be done in about an hour and a half.” She waved her wand again and Draco was shocked, to say the least.

“What?”

“That’s right, he told us _everything_.” The spell she had cast on him let him talk, but not move. “Now, I’m not forcing you to go, but I want you to consider it. I know you’ve been a good friend to him until this fight. And I think you’ll understand when he tells you. You don’t have to become his friend again, just hear him out. I don’t think he knows you’re coming.” She nullified the _Petrificus Totalus_ off of him with a quick _Finite_ and helped him stand. “I have to leave now, but...think about what I said, alright?”  
  
They walked downstairs together and Hermione, true to her word, quickly left after saying bye to Pansy and Blaise. “Remember what I said, Draco!” she yelled as the stone wall slid closed behind her.

“What did she say, Draco?” Pansy asked him as she plopped on the couch right next to him.

“I’ll tell you guys later.” Draco didn’t know what to do. ‘Hear him out’ he heard Hermione insistently telling him and he sighed. _Why were things always so complicated when it came to the Boy Who Lived Twice?_

“I’ll not go,” He told himself, crossing his arms on the couch. Pansy looked at him, confused, but she turned back to her book.

‘He’ll be there for an hour and a half.’ Hermione’s voice rang through his mind again, and he groaned.

Ten minutes later, Draco was in front of the painting of fruit. _I’m not there to be his friend again, not after what he said. But, I’ll hear him out. I just need to get over these fucking feelings!_ He cursed himself, wondering if it was too late to turn back. The kitchen (the main one at least) was blissfully empty, mainly because dinner was finished a while ago. Or maybe the elves were just taking a break.

His nervousness increased with every step, until he was right outside Potter’s kitchen. He quietly walked inside.

Harry was standing at the sink, washing something and staring at something else that was on the stove. He took this moment to admire Harry’s grace and obvious skill in the kitchen and he wondered how he had learnt to cook so well. The other wizard was still in his Hogwarts robes and was humming a tune that Draco didn’t recognize under his breath. He looked so beautiful, standing there in that kitchen and Draco wondered what would happen if he came up behind him, placed his hands on Harry’s hips and laid his head on Harry’s shoulder. He wondered what it would feel like to kiss-

“I know you’re there, Draco.” Harry’s voice was a bit amused, but he still didn’t turn around.

“Uh, right. Potter.” He snapped out of his daze. _This was Potter. Not Harry._

Har- _Potter_ turned around at that moment and smiled an unsure smile at Draco. “I have so much to tell you, but I’ll split it into four things. First, I’m really sorry. Sometimes, I never think before I say something. And it happens when I’m angry. No matter how many times I say sorry, I don’t think it’ll be enough, and you probably hate me right now.” His eyes flickered down and Draco felt a pang in his chest.  
  
“Secondly, I told them. Ron and Hermione, I mean. I finally told them and you were right, you always are. I don’t know why I was worried about telling Ron and ‘Mione, but telling them anything and everything always makes me feel better. And you probably don’t think that we’re friends anymore, but I do.” Draco opened his mouth to say something, but Harry held up a hand. “So, thirdly, you need to know how I got good at cooking. And this isn’t a happy story, I’m warning you.”

Draco nodded. “Go ahead.” His voice sounded hoarse.

“Not many people know this, but I was raised by a Muggle family.”

Draco was shocked. “You-you were?”

Harry nodded solemnly. “I was. They were the closest family I had, apart from Sirius Black, my godfather.” Draco wanted to say something, but he kept his mouth shut and motioned for the other wizard to go on. “Saying they didn’t like me was an understatement; when I first came to Hogwarts and met Professor Snape, I thought that he and my uncle Vernon and aunt Petunia had some sort of sick ‘I Hate Harry Potter’ club thing going on.” He smiled weakly, attempting to put some humor in it.

Draco only stared at him in horror. Everyone knew how much Snape had hated Harry, but to have that hatred in your family? “Don’t say anything right now,” Harry said softly, looking down at the floor. “Until I turned eleven, I slept in a cupboard underneath the stairs. I did the housework, all the chores. I even cooked the meals, which is how I came to be so good at it. And it was the one thing that relaxed me. I almost felt robotic when I was doing it.” Draco looked at him in confusion. “Never mind. Muggle expression. Anyways,” he went on, “sometimes, they ‘forgot’ to feed me. Maybe that’s why at the beginning of Hogwarts I loved the feast, and the food. When I turned twelve, they locked me in my own room because they knew I couldn’t magic myself out. They fed me, gave me water, and let me use the loo, but apart from that, I was a prisoner. Or at least I felt like one. My cousin Dudley was the only one who punched me. He bullied me at school. But then the summer before fifth year, I saved his life so now we’re on better terms, I think. But before, I wore all his old clothes. They were always so loose and baggy on me.” He laughed a bit, but avoided Draco’s eyes. It was good that he did.

Draco was fuming. To make a young boy do all that work and _still_ treat him miserably! “What else?”

“That was it really.” Harry turned to look at what was cooking on the stove before turning it off and casting a Stasis Charm on it. “They did call me ‘freak’. And ‘boy’. And I didn’t know I was a wizard until Hagrid barged in on my eleventh birthday and told me-”

“Harry, you’re amazing.” Draco pulled the other boy in for a hug, cutting him off. He couldn’t believe that Harry had to go through this as a child. And how had he turned out so kind after it? “I’m so sorry,” he whispered to Harry. “All those times I teased you about your clothes and made fun of you for not having a family, thinking that you were treated like a king, I didn’t know the truth.” An image of Harry when he was eleven popped into his head, the scrawny, almost skeletal looking boy who wore a grey shirt way too big for him. How had he not realized?

“It’s alright, Draco.” Harry relaxed into the hug, arms circling around Draco’s waist. “Can you forgive me for what I said last week?”

Draco nodded. “Yes, I can forgive you, but I may not forget what you said. You really hurt me that day.” Harry looked up at him with shining green eyes.

“I know you won’t be able to forget it. But I want to make up for it. And so, thank you for forgiving me and giving me this second chance.”

“Well technically, isn’t it like a third chance because we were friends before.”

“Hell, I don’t _care_ what chance it is, just so long as I get another one.”

They were standing very close to each other now, Draco noticed. “And what’s the fourth thing?” he asked, hoping his voice wasn’t too breathy.

Harry’s face turned a brilliant red. “This year, I ended up realizing some things about myself. One of them is that I’m gay. Another thing is that I really like you, Draco Malfoy.”

Draco’s heart seemed to stop. “W-what?”

“I, um, like you. As in I fancy you. As in I had a crush on you all this time and I didn’t notice it until that Saturday when we all cooked together.”

Draco stayed silent. Harry looked down. “It’s all right. I figured you’d have a reaction like this since- _mmph_!” Draco had lunged at Harry and did the thing that he had been fantasizing about for weeks.

Harry was stiff for a second in shock before he melted, relaxing into Draco, into the kiss. His lips were soft, and warm, and-

“ _Draco_.” Harry moaned as he nipped a bottom lip and their tongues twined around each other, exploring, tasting. Draco looped an arm around Harry’s waist, slipping his hand under the grey tee Harry was wearing and tangling his other hand in Harry’s hair.

The kiss was over far too soon for Draco’s liking but he pulled back reluctantly. Harry’s hair was more mussed up than usual and his lips were swollen. Harry’s kiss was like fire; Draco’s lips burned. “Harry,” he grinned and licked his lips, “I feel exactly the same.”

They stumbled to the Gryffindor common room (it was the closest one, after all) under Harry’s invisibility cloak, stopping for quick snogs along the way. They climbed through the portrait hole after giving the Fat Lady the password (‘Hog Pie’). Harry led him to the dorms and then locked the door, casting a strong privacy ward and a silencing charm.

Draco, who had been waiting for the opportunity to pounce, immediately took advantage of the opportunity and led them to a bed. Pushing Harry down on it, he attacked Harry’s neck, licking and sucking.

“Um, Draco- _ah!_ -you know this isn’t my- _fuck!_ -bed, right?” Draco finished sucking a fresh love bite onto the side of Harry’s tanned neck.

“Well then whose is it?” Draco leaned back down to the love bite, pressing a kiss there before starting to create a new one.

“Um, it’s Ron’s.” Draco pulled away immediately.

“Ew! I’m not going to shag you in a bed where Weasley and Hermione have done it!”

Harry laughed and then promptly stopped. “You’re going to shag me?”

Draco felt his face turn red. “Well, we could do it the other way around-if you want-”

“No, I want to. I was going to ask you actually.” Harry’s face flamed red with his response and Draco felt himself grow even harder.

Harry squeaked in surprise when Draco suddenly swooped him up. “Where’s your bed Harry?” he purred seductively at the other boy.

Harry visibly shivered. “That one.” He lifted up his hand to point at the bed right next to Weasley’s.

Draco carried him over to the bed and laid him down gently hovering over him. Harry made a pained noise and leaned up to kiss Draco. Their tongues stroked against each other as Draco ran his fingers up and down Harry’s sides, pulling the shirt off when Harry moaned in pleasure. Draco ran his fingers down Harry’s chest in a trail, then following it with his tongue. He pinched a tight nipple between his fingers as his tongue laved the other one. “Merlin, you’re so beautiful.” He groaned before dipping his tongue in Harry’s navel.

The other wizard’s reactions were extremely hot. He moaned, mewled, and groaned Draco’s name in between pants as Draco unbuttoned his shirt and took it off as well.

“Yessss,” Harry hissed as Draco tossed his shirt to the side. “Take it all off, I want it all off.” Harry chose this moment to latch onto Draco and easily make marks on his pale neck. “Gods Draco, you’re amazing.” He moaned in between all the messy kisses, licks and bites on his neck. Draco quickly pulled off his trousers and then his boxers and quickly ridded Harry of his. Draco just stared at Harry and took in everything. His cock jutted out proudly from his body and when he looked up, the Harry’s eyes were focused on his hard prick.

Draco moved forward but Harry quickly flipped them and pressed Draco onto the bed. “Let me,” he purred and Draco felt himself get impossibly harder.

Harry slithered down his chest and Draco cried out when his cock was taken into a warm mouth which began sucking in earnest.

“ _Ah_ , Harry!” Draco cried out as Harry’s tongue did wonders to his hardened cock. “Fuck, Harry, stop, I’m going to come!”

Harry pulled off with a wet pop and Draco kissed him hurriedly, messily and trailed his fingers to the curve of Harry’s arse. He quickly murmured a spell, and his fingers became slick. Harry pulled back and moaned as Draco’s finger traced his hole and then breached him. “Draco!” Harry screamed and moaned at the same time. “Gods, that’s perfect, another one!” Draco quickly slipped in another finger alongside his first one and scissored them and Harry wailed.

“Can’t wait any longer Draco please stop teasing me and put your cock inside me!” he cried and Draco grew impossibly harder.

“Yes, yes, I will. Gods, Harry, you’re so perfect, so tight!” he promised and Harry keened. He quickly conjured more lube, slathered his cock with it and then lined up his prick against Harry’s arsehole and started to push.

 _Merlin, he’s so tight!_ Draco thought as he thrust in slowly until he was fully sheathed, balls pressing against Harry’s arse. “Move,” Harry told him and ground his hips against Draco. Groaning, Draco complied.

“Faster, Draco, harder! You won’t hurt me just fuck me- _fuck!_ ” Harry cried out as Draco hit his prostate. “That spot again!” Draco hammered into him until Harry was a moaning wailing mess and he could feel his orgasm rising up in him and he looked down to see those mesmerising green eyes-

He came explosively inside Harry, everything going white for a second before it was over and he pulled out slowly, sticky and sated. Harry lay there and cooling mess of his own come lying on his belly. The room was filled with the smell of sex.

“Harry.” Green eyes met his. “You were amazing.” Harry just yawned and curled into Draco.

Draco wrapped his arms around him and fell asleep.

He woke up in the early hours of the morning and a quick Tempus told him that it was almost 6:00 in the morning. He turned to look at Harry only to find him-

“Hey, Draco.”

-awake.

“Harry.” Draco quickly kissed him. “Are you alright?”

“No, no. ‘M fine. Just couldn’t sleep, and from the looks of it, you couldn't either. Is something bothering you?”

He hadn’t thought of it, but something was niggling at him, but he couldn’t tell what it was-

“I think I owe you some explanation.” Harry looked worried.

“Of what happened last night?” Harry crossed his arms over his chest.

“No, no! It’s about two things. One would be about strawberries and cream.”

“And the other?” Harry sat up quickly.

“Sixth year.” Draco looked down, but if anyone deserved to know, it was Harry. “Okay.” He drew a shaky breath in. “You may think that my parents were - or are - evil bastards, but there was a time when that wasn’t what it was like. My parents were never really evil people, they just had the wrong connections and were forced into something that they didn’t want. But I still tried to remember the days when our family wasn’t as broken as it is now - and one such day was after we got the news of the defeat of the Dark Lord. My parents were happy at that time and we always did special things during that time. One such time, my parents had the house elves make us a huge breakfast that we all ate together - that wasn’t what it was like after his return. They also had the house elves make me my favorite - strawberries and cream. And so now I try not to mention it again, to eat it again.”

Harry only leaned forward silently and pulled Draco into his arms. “I can’t believe I called you a spoiled brat after that. I didn’t know what it was like for you. I-”

"I already forgave you, Harry.” Draco gave him a small smile, which he eagerly returned. “Now, sixth year.” He gulped. “This is the more dark story and whatever you do, you will not make fun of or mock me about because then I will saw off your cock or some other unfortunate body part.” He felt a prickling behind his eyes. “Sixth year, I was depressed. That’s all there is to that. Because I had a task, you know about it. It was driving me insane. Kill someone, or say goodbye to my family. I went through quite a phase there. I started to isolate myself at the start of sixth year. I didn’t want any of my friends to get hurt because of me. What I didn’t realize at the time was that I was hurting them by staying away. Then came the cutting.”

“The _cutting?!_ Draco, you-”

“Yes. I cut myself to think that it would stop the hurt in here-” Draco tapped his chest. “I hated isolating my friends. But I knew that I had to. And then came the day I went in the bathroom-”

“And I cursed you,” Harry interrupted, pulling Draco against his chest. “God, Draco, I was such an idiot-”

“And I wasn’t? I was going to use an Unforgivable on you.”

“But that still doesn’t excuse what I did-”

“It’s alright. I really don’t want to talk about it, please. Anyways, after that incident I started to wonder what would happen if I died. There were two attempts. The first time I cut myself so much that I was bleeding everywhere. Pansy found me that day and I’ll never forget the look on her face.” Pansy had looked at him with absolute horror and her scream for help was filled with pain. “The second time, I tried to pitch myself off of the Astronomy Tower. I did jump but I think Blaise was right below the tower at the time and he cast a spell to slow me down before I hit the ground. He yelled at me in the Hospital Wing. Pansy didn’t even show up until I was asleep, she was that upset. But that was it. My friends helped me a lot through that-that time.”

Harry held him even tighter then, as he finally let everything go and let the tears stream down his face.

_You’re too good to be true, Harry Potter._

 

On Sunday morning, Draco woke Harry up and after getting ready, they headed down to the kitchen.

“Why did you want us to get up early again?” Harry had complained and Draco wrapped his arm around him.

“You’ll see.” Draco had smirked at him before placing a quick kiss on those pouting lips.

Draco had woken up in Harry’s arms - or was it the other way around? - on Saturday morning. They spent the day cuddling, talking, and having sex. Harry had been on top that time, Draco moaning each time his prostate was hit. They lay in bed, cuddling and talking; Harry talked about how he had been in the forest during Draco’s seventh year and Draco’s heart ached at every point of the story; Draco himself talked about his time at Hogwarts during his seventh year, where the school itself was a war zone. Draco remembered holding Harry after those stories were exchanged and fervent apologies were murmured and promises were made.

They had gone to the kitchen on Saturday and Harry removed the charm that was hiding the doorway to his kitchen, and on Sunday when the eighth year Slytherins and Gryffindors gathered in the kitchen wondering what was going on, Harry appeared with a basket of chicken nuggets and something he called ‘French flies’.

“Here, I’ve made some chicken nuggets and some French fries,” Harry said, smiling at everyone. So that’s what it was called.

“Wait,” Pansy cut in at that moment. “So on the day Hermione brought chicken nuggets and didn’t know who made them, it was actually you? And what is this room we’re in?”

Harry grinned at her. “Exactly right, Pansy. And this room,” he gestured to said room, “is my kitchen. When you couldn’t see me on Saturday and Sunday, it’s because I was in here. I hid it with Privacy Charms and Disillusionment Charms because I was scared of revealing it to you guys but Draco convinced me that letting you guys know was for the best.”

He then proceeded to hand out the chicken nuggets and the French fries to everyone.

“Wow, Harry, these are really good! You have to teach me sometime!” Pansy exclaimed as she neatly ate a bite of the nugget.

“Yeah, no problem!” Harry answered and then was swarmed by everyone else, who had quite a few answers to demand from him. Draco grinned at Harry who was amicably chatting with Blaise and Finnigan about French fries and whether they were really made in France. Harry looked more relaxed than he ever had before and as he saw Harry glance at him with a secret smile on his lips, Draco wagered that he knew why.

They all worked together the whole day, making cakes and cupcakes in every flavor, biscuits with delicious jams inside, and more. They even made enough for themselves, which they packed in a picnic basket and went out by the lake to enjoy, their afternoon filled with delicious goodies.

“So, Harry.” Pansy smirked at him and then back at Draco, who glared at her. “Are you single?”

“Are you interested?” Draco glowered at the thought of Harry and Pansy together, even if Harry was joking.

“No, unfortunately for you, I already have a boyfriend.” She motioned to her hand which was joined with Blaise’s. Harry chuckled, wiping his hands on his jeans.

“Then why do you want to know?” Draco tried to kill Pansy with his eyes. Blaise’s knowing smirk wasn’t helping either.

This conversation caught the attention of Weasley and Hermione, who immediately turned to Harry. “What are we talking about?” Hermione cocked her head at Pansy.

“I was wondering if Harry was single.” Pansy grinned at her and Hermione smiled her own shark tooth smile back. _Merlin, did all girls have that smile?_

“Now that you mention it, Pansy,” Hermione touched her chin thoughtfully, “I don’t know and I find myself curious. Are you single Harry?” She turned to Weasley, who was munching on an apricot biscuit. “Ron, what do you think?”

“Mmph?” Weasley looked up and some crumbs slipped out of his mouth as he spoke. “I’d wager that he’s not. In fact, I have a good idea of who he’s with, anyway.”

Hermione looked surprised. “Really Ron? Who?”

“I don’t feel like telling.” Weasley looked smug. “When I’m right, then we’ll see. But then again, I may also have a seizure from watching them go at it.”

Draco was about to pitch in with a ‘That’s rude Weasley’ but then that would definitely give the game away. He kept silent, but with great effort.

“Draco?” Pansy’s voice snapped him out of his daze.

“What?” He grumbled, obviously in a bad mood.

“I was asking if you think Harry’s single.”

That bint! Draco would get back at her for that. “No, I think he’s single. Look at him! It looks like he hasn’t had a good shag in a while.”

Harry glared at him, even though they both had had a good shag just yesterday and the day before. “What makes you think that?”

“Well-” he started, but Harry stopped him.

“But what if I told you that I wasn’t single?”

Draco’s lips twitched so fast that he was pretty sure that everyone else missed it. “Then I’d assume that the person you’re seeing is very lucky to have the Chosen One as a boyfriend. Also, I’m pretty sure we’d know. The person you were seeing would look as if they had a good shag. Which is not the case right now.”  
  
Harry glared at him playfully and Pansy and Hermione glanced at both of them. Weasley and Blaise had already left the conversation and were with Finnigan and Thomas, talking about the new broom, _The Lightning X_.

They came back inside the kitchens and made ice cream for dessert and chocolate chip cookies. Harry also taught them to make a lava cake, which oozed chocolate one you cut into it. They never ended up serving said cake because of a food fight which was more of a melted chocolate fight.

They all went up to their dorms, sated and happy. But before he could go anywhere, Draco found himself being pulled into an alcove.

“Draco,” he started, “I realized that we never talked about this, but are we boyfriends now?”

Draco grinned at Harry and quickly kissed him on the lips. “That answer enough for you?”

Harry’s answering grin made Draco go weak at the knees.

 

Monday morning was sunny again, but it was still quite chilly. After all, it was almost October now. The first thing Draco heard when he woke up was Minerva McGonagall’s echoing voice.

“Students, please report to the Great Hall immediately before classes.”

Draco turned to wake Harry up but then noticed the empty space next to him. In order to not have everyone be suspicious of their whereabouts, they agreed to sleep in separate rooms for that night.

Draco stared forlornly at that empty spot until Blaise whacked him with a pillow. “Ouch! You pillock! You’re messing up my hair!”

Blaise smirked at him. “Draco, you just got out of bed.”

“My hair _is_ important you know.”

“Like hell it is.”

Draco finished getting ready, pulling on his tie and quickly combing his hair. “Ready to go?” He asked Blaise, who was busy tying his own tie.

“No, I have to do my hair. See, it’s important too, yes?” He grinned and Draco scowled at his poor imitation of his drawl. “Of course, I’m ready. Let’s go.”

They met Pansy in the common room and walked to the Great Hall together. “So Draco darling,” she grinned at him, “what’s going on between you and Harry?”

“Nothing.” He lied. “We’re just friends.”

Pansy let the subject drop, much to his relief (even though he could tell that she most likely knew about his relationship with Harry) and they talked about going to Hogsmeade after classes. They finally arrived in the Great Hall and sat at their table. A glance at the Gryffindor table showed him that Harry wasn’t there yet but Weasley and Hermione were.

He tucked into his breakfast, an English muffin, scrambled egg, and tea. He also snagged a couple of scones and slathered them with the raspberry jam. He was halfway through his breakfast when Professor McGonagall called for silence.

“We are one month into school,” she began, her powerful voice ringing in the hall, “and it is time to announce the results of the contest. The school voted Sunday evening. Everyone got to vote except for the eighth years.” Draco sat up straighter, waiting for this bit of news.

“And so, in fourth place are the Gryffindor seventh years.” Draco turned and noticed that Harry was there and looked quite disappointed. He looked up and Draco flashed him a smirk. God, Harry was so attractive with the way he grinned back at Draco, Merlin he wanted to-

McGonagall's voice cut into his fantasy.“In third place are the Slytherins.” Draco couldn’t find himself to care about the fact that they came third. They beat the Gryffindors, that’s for sure.

“In second place, we have the Ravenclaws.” The Hufflepuffs started to cheer and Draco couldn’t believe it. They had been beaten by _Hufflepuffs?_

“And in first place are the Hufflepuffs! Congratulations! Your house is awarded two hundred points.” He had expected the Ravenclaws to win, not the Hufflepuffs! _I knew there was a reason that the founder of Hufflepuff had that kitchen placed near her house’s common room!_

“And now,” McGonagall’s voice brought the hall into silence once more, “while the seventh years were cooking, the eighth years were baking as you all know. While the Slytherins worked with the Gryffindors, the Hufflepuffs worked with the Ravenclaws and after a thorough calculation of the votes,” the entire hall seemed to be holding its breath, “the winners are the Slytherins and Gryffindors! Both your houses will receive one hundred points each.”

They had done it! They had actually won and the Gryffindor eighth years practically ran to the Slytherin table to congratulate them.

In the midst of all this mingling, Harry popped up beside him. “Want to give them a show?”

Draco’s mouth went dry, but all it took was a small nod.

Harry lunged at him and their mouths connected wetly as his arms went around Harry’s waist, pulling them together.

Somewhere in the background, he heard a pained moan from Weasley. “I called it, Hermione. I swear, I knew.” Draco silently laughed to himself. Who would have imagined that _Weasley_ would have been the one to figure it out?

_Who would have imagined he and Harry together in the first place?_

He heard people talking and laughing, felt them staring but he focused on Harry.

Harry, who laughed at the silliest jokes that he made; Harry, who had the most piercing green eyes, who always threw all of himself in every kiss they shared.

As they pulled apart, a cheer rose from some parts of the crowd; some people booed, but he could barely hear them anyway; he could hear Pansy and Hermione squealing and he heard Blaise’s loud guffaw as he laughed in disbelief. Draco rested his forehead against Harry’s.

“You know the competition’s not over right?” Draco asked him.

“What do you mean?” Harry’s green eyes peered at him curiously.

“You versus me. In the kitchen. Meet me at 9:00. We’ll come up with some _interesting_ consequences for the loser.” Draco smirked at him and Harry only grinned.

“You bet your hot arse I’ll be there.” Draco blushed, but regained his composure quickly.

“Scared, Potter?” Draco leaned in for another quick kiss.

“You wish, Malfoy.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! All comments are extremely welcome either here or on [Livejournal](https://hd-fan-fair.livejournal.com/145010.html).


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